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I 


HOME-KEEPING 

HEARTS 


By 


NELLE WOMACK HINES 
ILLUSTRATIONS 


By 

THE AUTHOR 


THE J. W. BURKE COMPANY 
Publishers 
Macon, Georgia 





PS 35/5 
. If 53 Hg 




COPYRIGHT 1929 
By 

Nelle Womack Hines 


.1 

* * 

* i* 

-• * *> 

, *• 


©CIA 

DEC -7 I3?9 




17233 


TO 

MY GRANDSON 
AND 

MY GARDEN 


“Stay—stay at home my heart and rest, 
Home-keeping hearts are happiest. 

For those that wander, they know not where, 
Are full of trouble and full of care. 

To stay at home is best.” 


— Longfellow. 


^nn Interpretative Foreword 


H ome-keeping hearts by Neiie Womack 

Hines is just what its titles signifies—a singing book 
about that “Heaven far on this side of the stars by men 
called Home.” Mrs. Hines is one of those wise authors 
who, in the words of Stevenson, have stood up to live be¬ 
fore she has sat down to write. She has made the poem 
of home-keeping first; made it in the comeliness and se¬ 
renity of her home, in its fragrant variegated wealth of 
flowers; made it in the happiness that she has girded about 
her home and those in it; made it in the generous hospitality 
she dispenses. After making such a living poem, it does not 
matter much whether one writes book poems—the Great 
Poem of Life has been triumphantly consummated. 

But then some are natural weavers of lyric words and 
after they have made the poem of their life, they must 
needs sing about home-joys, sing as naturally as they made 
the idyl of their life. Such a two-fold poet is Mrs. Hines. 
I feel that the busy and useful life which has imperatively 
called her out of her home has made it possible for her to 
savor the delights of home as she might not have done 
had she confined her life to Greenacre and its beautiful 
garden-plots and paths. And so savoring the quality of her 
home life, she has written of it, not in formal verse, but, 
what is more important, in verse that sets itself to melody 
as one reads it. 

Not only is Home-Keeping Hearts thus doubly the work 
of the author, but we may go a step further and say it is 
trebly hers, for she has illustrated it. Upon these illustra¬ 
tions the New York artist, Frank Herring, set the seal of 
his approval and approbation. These illustrations are in 

( 5 ) 



6 


HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


poetic and artistic keeping with the poems or divisions of 
the book they illumine. 

This “Little Book of homey things” first of all sings 
forth the praises of home. The author makes clear that no 
luxury of surroundings makes a home: 

“It isn’t brass door knockers, 

It isn’t rugs of plush, 

Or dainty egg-shell china 
A finger-tip could crush.” 

What a gracious wish does she make for the peace of 
those who are her guests: 

“We hope this little room holds 
The dreams that you like best, 

And while you linger in it 

’Twill bring you peace and rest.” 

Happiness is not found in the long-sought chaste beauty 
and majesty of Taj Mahals nor in the purple-misted ro¬ 
mance of distant shores nor in the glamor of august old 
world cities “The Land of Every Heart’s Desire is the 
Home: 

“A little flagstone walk 

A-curving to a step— * 

A little door that opens to your touch; 

A little room all cosy, 

Made bright by tender care— 

A welcome smile from one who loves you much.” 

And what more sincere joy can a woman have than to 
know that her heart 

“Has a home to keep.” 

And if memory was given us that we may have roses 
in December, what is a home without the laughter and 



HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


7 


voices of children growing up there! Though the mother’s 
life may be full of worry and flurry as her children are 
taught the ways that lead to victory, hers shall later be the 
joy. Such a mother Mrs. Hines addresses: 

“Little Mother in your hurry, 

In your worry, scurry, flurry, 

Little heartaches as you cheer them, 
‘Now-I-lay-mes’ as you hear them, 

Your heart dreaming; 

Seeing your sons winning races, 

Carving names in templed places; 

Prideful of the song and story 
That you hope must be their glory; 

Little Mother—you’re the mystery— 

Little Mother—making history.” 

A home without a garden would be like having a beau¬ 
tiful painting without a frame. What would a home be 
without 

“Sunshine, daffodil, 

Blue sky, larkspur, 

Hum of bee; 

Shadows shifting— 

Wee wings flitting—” 

and all other floral loveliness that blossoms from a garden. 
That Mrs. Hines believes with the old garden—inscription 
that 

“One is nearer God’s heart in a garden 
Than anywhere else on earth” 

may be seen in the final verse of In My Garden: 

“So—with the peace of twilight hour 
My heart and I at dusk— 



8 


HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


The day’s work done—and both a-smile— 

I’m sure God sits with us a while 
In my garden sweet at dusk.” 

That the poet loves her garden best when Lady April 
comes down the world may be seen in 

“Fer April’s skies is bluest 
An’ April’s eyes is truest, 

Oh! April is a lady that’s wuth any songster’s lay.” 

It is only one step from love of home to love of country. 
Whoever is devoted to one will be loyal to the highest 
interests of the other. Mrs. Hines’ love for country and 
her native state is a passionate singing love. I especially 
like her Georgia Greeting: 

4 ‘Take a bit of Georgia sunshine 
Add a drop of sparkling dew, 

Just a pinch of crimson sunset 
And a rose of tender hue; 

Just a slice of fondest wishes 
And a violet or two, 

Mix them well—a Georgia Greeting 
And I’m sending it to you.” 

There is a sane, thoughtful philosophy of life brighten¬ 
ing the pages of this little book of verse, a serene garden- 
philosophy. There are many fine touches of poetic art as in 
My Lady's Fan. So full of melody and the spirit of song 
are these poems that many of them have been set to music. 
There is imagery of highly poetic suggestion as when 
potent longings are compared to 

“Waves of muffled memory 
From some far off shore.” 

There is, too, a bright vein of humor irradiating some 
of these poems, a humor that is the sense of proportion and 
of the poetry of men and things. 

Joseph Robinson, 

Mercer University. 



(foments 


PAGE 

An Interpretative Foreword.5 

Introduction.13 

Dedication—A Miracle.19 

Message from the Author.20 

PICTURES 

My Grandson.Between pages 18 and 19 

Sunrise Garden at Greenacre . . Between pages 18 and 19 
“My Grandson in my Garden There 

With Me”.Facing page 19 

Little Neighbors.Facing page 106 

“Dear Little Me at the Age of Three” . . Facing page 131 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
(By the Author) 

Home-keeping Hearts.Facing page 20 

Where Milk and Honey Flows.Facing page 38 

Along Comes Spring.Facing page 52 

“A Little Nonsense Now and Then” . . Facing page 68 

When Mary Sings.Facing page 88 

Hollyhocks and Butterflies.Facing page 106 

The Hills of Yesteryear.Facing page 124 

HOME-KEEPING HEARTS 

Home-keeping Hearts.23-24 

The Woman in the House.25-26 

Home 27 

Little Mother.28-29 

My Little House.30-31 

My Precious.32-33 

To You—in Our Home.34 

Hearts’ Desire.35 

“Jane—Shut the Kitchen Door”.36-37 

WHERE MILK AND HONEY FLOWS 

It’s Great to be a Georgian.41 

Georgia Land (Song adopted by Georgia P.-T. A.) . 42-43 

June-time in Georgia.44 

A Georgia Greeting.45 

01’ (Jeorgy’s Sunrise ........... r .. . 46-47 



























10 


HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


Georgia’s Birthday.48 

A Georgia Greeting.49 

Georgia Smiles.50 

Welcome—To the N. E. A.51 

ALONG COMES SPRING 

Spring is Here.55-56 

A Spring Greeting.56 

A Valentine—At G. S. C. W.57 

A Spring Song.58-59 

Lady April.60-61 

Hello!—At G. S. C. W.62 

Feeling Better—At G. S. C. W.63 

Spring Tonic.64 

Spring Exams.—At G. S. C. W.65 

A Song of the Rain.66-67 

“A LITTLE NONSENSE—NOW AND THEN” 

Just the Same.71 

Clean-up Campaign Song.72-73 

Words of Advice (to a daughter-in-law).74-75 

I Love Onions.76 

Christmas Day (with Junior). 77-78-79 

If—(To a Friend Sailing).80 

To the Women’s Clubs.81 

Josiah Diggs.82-83 

“Lest You Forget”.84 

She Worries Me.85 

Toast—To a Merry Heart.86-87 

WHEN MARY SINGS 

(Words to Songs Written by the Author) 

When Mary Sings.91 

An Alumnae Hymn—G. S. C. W.92 

The Call of the Woods.93 

To Know .94 

White Dove (Indian Love Song).95 

Oh, Mis’ Lindy!.96-97 

Dear Little Babe (Lullaby).98 

Why Do I Love You?.99 

I Only Know—(Wedding Song).100 

Within .101 

Dear Old Baldwin.102 

The Maiden and the Nightingale.103 








































HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


11 


My Cabin in the Pines.104-105 

A Summertime Song.105-106 

Georgia Land. 42-43 

HOLLYHOCKS AND BUTTERFLIES 

Hollyhocks and Butterflies.109 

In My Garden.110-111 

My Day .112 

Recompense .113 

Whistling.114-115 

Little Neighbors.116 

June-hearted.117 

My Lady’s Fan.118 

The Way Pap Read It.119 

Because.120-121 

Too Bad! .122 

I Do Not Know.123 


THE HILLS OF YESTERYEAR 


The Hills of Yesteryear . . 

Song and Star. 

E’re I Die. 

Appreciation. 

Heaven . 

Friends . 

My Mother Dear. 

Home Again. 

To My Little Room . . . . 

In the Station. 

The Parable of the Talent . 

Life’s Work. 

Dear Little Me. 


127-128 
. .129 
. .130 
. .131 
. .132 
. .133 
134-135 
136-137 
138-139 
. .140 
141-142 
. .143 
. .144 
































Introduction 


ME poetry of Nelle Womack Hines is a 
natural outgrowth of her personality; and 
because that is true, one must know some¬ 
thing of her life to “catch the spirit of her 
songs.” 

To begin with—she lives at Greenacre, a 
lovely spot in a beautiful woodland setting 
near Milledgeville, and ’tis here is the garden in which 
she often entertains. ’Tis here that her friends come all 
summer long to linger where the fragrance of sweet scent¬ 
ed blossoms herald the gold-splashed dawn and the grey 
silver dusk. In this garden romps her grandson—Emmett 
Womack Hines ; Jr.—when he comes for a visit from his 
home in Baltimore. To these two great inspirations of 
her life, her grandson, that “precious bit of heaven sent 
to earth” and her garden, which she calls “the nearest place 
to heaven on this earth,” she has dedicated this volume of 
her poems. 

Perhaps, a very proper sketch should go back of the 
now, to the used-to-be of the poet’s life—and the yesterdays 
have been interesting for Nelle Womack Hines. Hers 
has been a rich, full, life every mfinute from that time of 
which she has written the little poem 

“Dear little me 
At the age of three” 

to the present. This busy woman budgets her day to include 
housekeeping tasks, a teaching schedule, for she has long 

(13) 











14 


HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


been a member of the music faculty at the Georgia State 
College for Women, and as Director of the Summer 
school music and entertainment at the College she is 
known to thousands of Georgia Teachers. There must 
be squeezed out of the crowded days time for her club 
duties. She is President of the Milledgeville Garden Club, 
has served as President of the local Woman’s Club six 
years; as President of the Tenth District Federation of 
Woman’s Clubs five years; is in the third year as presi¬ 
dent of the Baldwin County Federation of Clubs; is a 
non-resident member of the Macon and Atlanta Writer’s 
clubs; and a member of the American Pen Women’s 
League. 

As for her life story—nothing tells it so well as a little 
clipping from a newspaper of 1923. This was an interview 
with Mrs. Hines reported by a journalist at the time when 
she was attending the State Convention of the Woman’s 
Club as Tenth District President of that organization. 
Her beautiful song “Georgia Land” (subsequently adopted 
as the official song of the Georgia Congress of the P. T. A.) 
had just been published—asked about her life, Mrs. Hines 
“Became almost taciturn. So one had to depend for fur¬ 
ther side-lights on the delightful personality of Nelle Wo¬ 
mack Hines, on a letter in characteristic vein, which Mrs. 
Hines sent in reply to a Georgia Club which had requested 
a history of her life for a program on “Georgia Club Wom¬ 
en and their Accomplishments.” 

“Dear Club Co-workers: (Mrs. Hines wrote) 

I still feel dazed that you should want to know some¬ 
thing about my life—but a “memorial” taking place while 
I am still on the “right side of the daisies—” appeals to 
me. 



HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


15 


I was born—“somewhere in Oxford, Ga.— (old home 
of Emory University—)—“sometime” in the nineteenth 
century. Father—Emmett Womack, a graduate of Emory 
—a lawyer—and the grandest man that ever lived. Mother 
—Eleanor Wright—noted for her beauty (pause here to 
insert that I took from her only the color of her eyes). 
Moved to Covington at age of six—and lived there until 
my marriage in 1898. 

Began to teach music at age of twelve—neighbor’s chil¬ 
dren. We had recitals and almost ran the next door folks 
crazy. Couldn’t decide whether to be a noted actress or 
a great pianist—finally compromised on a writer. First 
attempt entitled—“What became of the Beautiful Bride—” 
or “The Robber’s Cave.” Later—decided that painting 
was my talent and gradually filled the walls of our home 
with likenesses of “Lone ships on sullen seas,” baskets of 
apples turned over—kittens playing with balls of thread 
—and yards and yards of roses and chrysanthemums. May¬ 
be some of you remember the craze. Poor mother! It en¬ 
gulfed her and left her speechless. Her only child painted 
everything on the place but the cook and the cow. 

Then decided to write poems, also to illustrate them. 
Woe is me—some of them still exist in the Emory Zodiac. 
I went so far as to have a book of them published, most of 
them written when I was too young to know any better. 
It might be of interest to know that the title for this first 
volume was given it by our own loved Frank L. Stanton 
—“Waifs from Wild Meadows.” 

Of course, on visits home from college, I met a number 
of Emory students, but I might have become a “college 
widow” if a handsome young man by the name of Edward 



16 


HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


Roberts Hines from the city of Milledgeville had not 
taken pity on my forlorn state and decided to end my sus¬ 
pense. 

The first eight years of married life were spent in finding 
out that the wife of a young lawyer has a job cut out for 
her—woman size. Also that two “little boys” could undo 
in one day more than mother could put together in a month. 
The years of lullabies put away—my old longing for my 
piano came back so insistently that I took up my study 
again, and finally I landed as a teacher at the Georgia 
State College for Women, where I still hold forth, having 
been there since 1906. 

Became interested in club work, and between clubbing 
and teaching managed to keep the twenty-four hours com¬ 
fortably full. I still have my husband, sometimes a cook, 
and generally—about seven cats. Of course, I still have 
my two boys, Emmett and Madison, but they’ll soon be 
out in the world. 

I once took a terrible fancy to write plays, and much 
white paper was spoiled. However, before this fancy was 
over my home town Dramatic Club presented two plays, 
“The Widow’s Ruse”—and “Hallucinations,” two musi¬ 
cal comedies—“The Only Pebble on the Beach” and 
“Their Family Name,” and various other skits given 
from time to time for local benefits. 

After referring to several autobiographies, I find you 
have to tell what your hobby is—your recreation—and the 
number of your shoe. My hobby is constructive club work, 
my chief recreation is working in my old fashioned flower 
garden, and as for the number of my shoe—I don’t have 
any—I just take the pair that fits. 



HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


17 


I also learned you had to have a few reminiscences— 
and I must be true to form. 

One vivid picture—riding on my father’s shoulder as 
he paced the long hall (mostly at night when he was 
studying) while he “spouted” Shakespeare by the yard. My 
first speeches were “Sit Jessica, see how the floor of heaven” 
—etc., etc.; Hamlet’s soliloquy, and a bit of the canto of 
Scott’s Lady of the Lake—“The stag at eve had drunk 
his fill.” The first real book my father ever gave me was 
“Rasselas, the Prince of Abyssinia—or the Happy Valley.” 

Last, “they say” you must describe yourself—rather 
personal—but here goes. About five feet seven; weight, 
around one-fifty; never sick (business of knocking on 
wood), have a splendid disposition except when my temper 
is ruffled, and might lay claims to beauty if my nose was 
not slightly Roman, if my eyes were a little larger with 
curling lashes, if I had a rose-leaf complexion, and my other 
features were modified somewhat.” 

Mrs. Hines songs—fifteen in all, four having been pub¬ 
lished—have sung their way into many hearts. Some think 
her most beautiful song is her well known and widely 
loved “Georgia Land.” 

The tenderest of her songs—the one that creeps up in 
the heart and nestles there—is “I Only Know,” written 
when she was eighteen, and set to music for the wedding 
of her son, Emmett, to beautiful Frederica Boatwright, of 
Cordele. 

Her most recently published songs are “My Cabin in 
the Pines,” inspired by the little log cabin in the recrea¬ 
tion park at the Georgia State College for Women, and her 
“Summertime Song,” dedicated to the students at the sum- 



18 


HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


mer session. Many hundreds of requests came to the author 
for their publication. Mrs. Hines being a musical artist 
as well as a literary artist, writes the music to her songs 
as well as the words. 

She is an artist of the brush as well—and like Hen¬ 
drick Van Loon illustrates her own writings with her own 
sketches. Only time—that fair, impartial judge of all crea¬ 
tion, can pass final estimate on the poems of Nelle Wo¬ 
mack Hines. It is enough for us that this sweet singer of 
Georgia—this feminine Edgar Guest, as she has been called 
—has lived and walked among us, that she has given voice 
to our heart throbs and our yearnings and our happiness 
in words of sweetness and beauty, that she has sung our 
state to glory with such poems as, “It’s Great to be a 
Georgian,” and other Georgia State Greetings, sent out 
as cards. 

Mrs. Hines has made life richer and happier with her 
songs; she has placed around the dull tasks of everyday 
the golden aura of tuneful song and rhyme. 

May her versatile pen give to us many more volumes, 
but if we only had this one, then Nelle Womack Hines 
would, because of it, qualify as a member of 

“- the choir invisible 

Of those immortal souls 
Who live again in minds 
Made better by their presence 

-the choir invisible 

Whose music is the gladness 
of the world.” 

Bernice Brown McCullar. 








MY GRANDSON 
Emmett Womack Hines, Jr. 
Age—three and a half. 






Sunrise Garden at Greenacre 










My Grandson in my Garden—There With Me. 
















HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


19 


A MIRACLE 


My Garden? 

The nearest place to heaven 
On this earth, 

It is to me. 

Sunshine, daffodil, 

Blue sky, larkspur, 

Hum of bee; 

Shadows shifting— 

Wee wings flitting— 

Bird song and little nest 
In a tree. 

My Grandson? 

A precious bit of heaven 
Sent to earth; 

When I see 
Laughter bubbling— 

Sparkling eyes— 

Eager questions as he leans 
On my knee; 

A miracle—two bits of heaven 
Here on earth; 

My Grandson in my Garden— 
There with me. 




20 


HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


A Little Book of homey things, 

A little bit of rhyme, 

Mayhap all of the little feet 
Do not keep perfect time. 

Each little thought would like to be 
A lovely song—a part 
Of which might sing itself along 
To linger in your heart. 

—The Author. 




Home-Keeping Hearts 




































































HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


23 


HOME-KEEPING HEARTS 


A sleepy ray of light 

Creeps through my window pane. 

A shy bird’s twittered welcome 
To the dawn 

Steals through the grey-eyed silence. 

And strange insistant longings 
Surge like waves of muffled memory 
From some far off shore. 

They flood my breast, 

Where linked' fingers strive to calm 
The throb that urges quest; 

But comes the thought of that wee bird— 
Upon her nest. 




24 


HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


I lean into the velvet dusk 
Where voices, dim as fairy shadows 
Call to me, 

And as they swoon into the night, 

Vague scenes arise, 

Faint as the tints of sunset 
On a summer cloud. 

Veiled scents, 

Like mists of half remembered dreams, 

Float by and lure me on. 

I pause— 

And lean upon my little gate; 

My hand upon its latch—I turn— 

With heart a-flutter in my breast, 

For out of somewhere comes a voice— 
“Home-keeping hearts are happiest.” 

Then—as my feet along the bordered walk, 
Pass by the larkspur 
And the four o’clock, 

My thankful eyes rest on a door ajar— 

My pulses leap! 

And silent praise wells up in joy 
To know that my heart— 

Has a home to keep, 



HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


25 


THE WOMAN IN THE HOUSE 


Think I’ll write a poem, 

’Tis such a lovely day— 

To spend an hour in rhyming 
Would be a lovely way. 

(Yes, my dear, in just a minute— 
(Mother’ll put some sugar in it.) 

Shall I choose the sunset? 

It’s glorious to see! 

Hope an inspiration 

Will quickly come to me. 

(Daddy wants me? All right baby, 

(When Daddy calls—he don’t mean maybe.) 

How about the springtime? 

Now that’s a dandy theme— 

Flowers—grass—and sunshine— 

Mayhap a dewdrop’s gleam! 

(Scratched you? Pulled her tail? A pity! 
(Yes—turpentine—don’t bother kitty!) 




26 


HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


Then—there is the moonlight— 

A nightingale—a lark— 

Maybe something deeper, 

Like midnight—in the park! 

(Um-m—but this smells good! Oh my— 

(I do hope John will like this pie!) 

Everything’s so lovely, 

It’s very hard you see 
To fix upon a subject— 

(Oh, my goodness me! 

(YOU JIMMY! climb down off that gate ! 
(I guess this poem will have to wait!) 



HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


27 


HOME 


Home! 

My very heart’s desire is safe 
Within thy walls; 

The voices of my loved ones; friends who come, 
My treasured books that rest in niche serene, 

All make more dear to me thy haven sweet. 

Nor do my feet 

Desire to wander out except that they 
May have the glad return at eventide— 

Dear Home. 

Home! 

My very heart’s contentment lies 
Within thy walls. 

No worldly calls hath power to turn my eyes 
In longing from thy quietness. Each morn 
When I go forth upon the duties of the day 
I wend my way 

Content to know that eve will bring me 
Safely to thy walls again. 

Dear Home! 




28 


HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


LITTLE MOTHER 


Little Mother, in your hurry, 
Though the days are full of worry, 
Full of duties every minute 
No room for one other in it— 

Pause a second; 

And each step, just as you make it, 
Try to sing it as you take it; 

Do you think that life’s a mystery— 
Little Mother? 

Little Mother in your hurry, 

’Bout the house as fast you scurry, 
Washing precious little faces, 
Darning dainty little laces 
For the maidens; 

Always cutting bread and butter, 
Freeing corners of a clutter; 

Do you think that life’s a mystery— 
Little Mother? 




HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


29 


Little Mother in your hurry, 

Every moment one of flurry, 

List’ning for wee feet that patter, 

Little tongues that chatter, chatter, 
Every second; 

Every little thought so prayerful 
That each act be just and careful; 

Do you think that life’s a mystery— 
Little Mother? 

Little Mother in your hurry, 

In your worry, scurry, flurry, 

Little heartaches as you cheer them, 
“Now-I-lay-mes” as you hear them, 
Your heart dreaming; 

Seeing your sons winning races, 

Carving names in templed places; 
Prideful of the song and story 
That you hope must be their glory; 

For your maidens, eager yearning 
That they truly value learning; 
Trusting that you not neglect them, 
Praying God that He protect them; 
Little Mother—you’re the mystery— 
Little Mother—making history! 



30 


HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


MY LITTLE HOUSE 


My little house is a dear little house, 

(Though I have seen much better;) 

My little house is a queer little house, 

Has stood all sorts of weather. 

Its blinds are faded—and worn each sill, 

(But I wouldn’t swap it for yours on the hill.) 

Sometimes I go away from home, 

Out in the world to see, 

All the grand things and great folks, 

That live in the big city. 

And oh I have the finest time! 

(And get back home with about one dime.) 

My house winks—and ’neath my feet 
Its boards just chuckle with glee— 

“Here you are—there’s a new bird nest 
Out in the old plum tree; 

Petunia’s about to lose her breath— 

She’s mighty near bloomed herself to death!” 




HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


31 


So out I go to see about 

The wonderful things I’ve heard, 

I warn Petunia to have a care 
And speak to the mother-bird. 

And pride and love in my heart glows— 

(But how can it be that my little house knows?) 

Oh, you smart little house of mine! 

I wouldn’t swap you for a mansion fine! 































32 


HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


MY PRECIOUS 


A Woman to her unborn child 

Will your eyes be lights of blue, 
Bits of heaven shining through 
Twin violets? 

Will they be a soft sweet brown 
Like the cat-tails on the down? 
Which, precious? 

Will your little head be bright, 
Sunbeam tendrils, soft and light, 
A-curling? 

Will there be a dusky down 
Frame your little face so round? 
Which, precious? 

Will it be a doll I’ll buy 
That can laugh and talk and cry— 
So thrilling? 

Will it be a lively toy 
That would please a little boy? 
Which, precious? 




HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


33 


Never mind the blue or brown, 

Light or dark the little down; 

Never mind about the toy 
For a little girl or boy; 

I’m longing— 

To feel your head against me prest! 
To fold you warm against my breast! 
My precious! 

To see the dawning in your eyes 
Of love for me. Your sweet surprise 
At kisses. 

To place your curling finger-tips 
Against my loving, hungry lips— 
My precious! 



34 


HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


TO YOU—IN OUR HOME 


It isn’t brass door knockers, 

It isn’t rugs of plush, 

Or dainty egg-shell china 
A finger-tip could crush, 

That makes a body happy 

To know some threshold’s near— 
But thought of that warm welcome 
To every heart so dear. 

We hope this little room holds 
The dreams that you like best, 
And while you linger in it 

’Twill bring you peace and rest. 
And w T hen, in after years, friend, 

If far from us you roam, 

Just know, it keeps a welcome, 

For you—in this—our Home. 




HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


35 


HEART’S DESIRE 


A little flagstone walk 
A-curving to a step— 

A little door that opens to your touch; 

A little room all cosy 
Made bright by tender care— 

A welcome smile from one who loves you much. 
A little dog a-wagging 
Himself about your feet— 

A kitten curled with comfort by the fire— 

A sound of childish laughter 
A-thrilling to your ear— 

That is Home—the Land of Every Heart’s De¬ 
sire ! 

























36 


HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


“JANE—SHUT THE KITCHEN DOOR” 


That we need beauty for our souls 
God knows without a doubt, 

Or why should He with lavish hand 
Keep scattering it about? 

And I’m so thankful I don’t live 
In that benighted time 
When just to use a colored paint 
Was something of a crime. 

I shut my eyes—I see them now— 
Those kitchens—stark and drear; 
And if a-visiting you might go 
And chanced to pass the rear 
Of any home—you’d likely catch, 

Just as you’d caught before— 

A whisper floating on the air— 

“Jane—shut the kitchen door!” 

Gone, that day of soot and smut— 
Gone, blackened pots and pans— 
That took all pleasure from the work, 
And ruined your poor, poor, hands. 
Hail to the time of pretty floors, 

Of curtains bright and gay, 

And things that cheer the many tasks 
That fill a woman’s day. 




HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


37 


My kitchen is in tints of cream 
And precious shades of grey, 

And breezes blow through curtains blue— 
And all hours of the day 
I need but just to cast my eyes 
Through windows, and I see 
A bed of saucy flowers blowing 
Kisses in to me. 

A woman’s queer—and she must have 
Beauty her soul to feed, 

’Twill help to fit her for the tasks 
That fill her family’s need. 

And many, many times when I 
Do count my blessings o’er, 

I’m thankful not to have to say— 

“Jane—shut the kitchen door!” 






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Oh Georgia. 

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Ana doiaenrods 

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You.ye dearest^ 

aTuitKe nearest, 

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UaCjeoydia Land. 

.TavGeoydm 
Where 7m)h mnd 
hone^ hows. 



‘Where Milk and Honey Flows/ 









HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


41 


IT’S GREAT TO BE A GEORGIAN 


It’s great to be a Georgian! 

And that is why I sing 
Of all the lovely wonders 

She brings us with her spring. 
She spreads a velvet carpet 
Of living, glowing, green—, 
And in each fairy footstep 
A violet is seen. 

There’s honeysuckle bowers 
On hillside; in her dells 
A million bird-notes floating; 

She weaves her magic spells 
And lo! the red-bud flaunting— 
The yellow jasamine swings 
And sways in tuneful rhythm; 

And my heart sings and sings 
Her praise for all this beauty 
From mountain to her sea. 

Oh Georgia ! glorious mother! 
You’re wonderful to me! 




42 


HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


GEORGIA LAND 


Words and music composed 1923. 

Song Adopted by Georgia Congress of 
Parent-Teachers in 1925. 

When you wake up in the morning to the mocking 
bird’s sweet song, 

Then you know you’re down in Georgia Land, 

When you hear the bees a humming ’round the 
roses as they throng, 

Then you know you’re down in Georgia Land, 

When you smell the honey suckles which clothe the 
banks with green, 

Where the butterfly on wing that glows 

Doth dip and sip their sweetness, then you know 
you’ve reached the Land, 

Georgia Land where milk and honey flows. 

Chorus 

Oh, Georgia with your hedges, of Cherokee a 
bloom, 

Your water melons, peaches, and golden rod’s tall 
plume, 

You’re dearest and the nearest, in my heart your 
beauty glows, 

Oh Georgia Land my Georgia, 

Where milk and honey flows, 




HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


43 


When you see the cotton blooming and the fields 
of waving grain, 

Then you know you’re down in Georgia Land, 
When the wind sighs through the pine trees as you 
stroll down lover’s lane, 

Then you know you’re down in Georgia Land, 
When you hear the banjos tumming and the picka¬ 
ninnies dance, 

In the moonlight near the cabin doors, 

And you feel so free and happy then you know 
you’ve reached the Land, 

Georgia Land where milk and honey flows. 

i 

God grant your sons and daughters may faithful 
to you be, 

May our hearts with love of you e’er thrill, 
May we stand for truth and service from the 
mountain to the sea, 

And our children trust in you instill. 

May we be united always thus helping you be true, 
To our Land where freedom’s flower blows 
We will ever love you Georgia ever loyal be to 
you, 

Georgia Land where milk and honey flows. 




44 


HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


JUNE TIME IN GEORGIA 


I’ve never traveled much around, 

Or been to far off lands, 

Where people roam with guide books to and 
fro; 

I’ve never been to visit where 
They say there’s golden strands, 

And fragrance-laden breezes come and go. 

I’ve read in blue- and gold-bound books 
Which told of many states 

That boasted varied treasures rich and rare; 
But oh, the blue of Georgia’s skies, 

And her sun’s golden smile! 

You must agree that she has drawn her share. 

It’s June-time and it’s tune-time— 

Oh don’t you feel the thrill? 

For ’tis the time when friends and loved ones 
meet; 

It’s your time and it’s my time 
And we will sing a song 

That tells the world Old Georgia can’t be beat. 



HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


45 


A GEORGIA GREETING 


Take a bit of Georgia sunshine 
Add a drop of sparkling dew, 

Just a pinch of crimson sunset 
And a rose of tender hue; 

Just a slice of fondest wishes 
And a violet or two, 

Mix them well—a Georgia Greeting 
And I’m sending it to you. 






46 


HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


OL’ GEORGY’S SUNRISE 


I luv’ter git up mornin’s when the chickens ’gin ter 
crow, 

An’ go out into the air so fresh and still; 

An’ wander ter a meadow an’ set down on a log, 

An’ watch ol’ Georgy’s sun dim’ o’er the hill. 

At fust, things seem so solemn, with a grey mist 
creepin’ ’round, 

An’ the meadow sweet with clover at yer feet— 

Jes’ talk o’ rose and lillies, but I’ll tell yer—ter my 
min’ 

That clover beats creation smellin’ sweet! 

The stars are winkin’, blinkin’, lookin’ down with 
curious eyes 

As if they’d never seed me thar before; 

An’ I’ve bin ter that same place fer at least a hun¬ 
dred times— 

An’ I’m not so sho’ but what it might be more. 



HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


47 


A blush cums ter the eastern sky, as if it wus 
ashamed, 

An’ then sum faintish streaks o’ yaller-red 

Cum peepin’ o’er the rim thar, jes’ like sum naugh¬ 
ty boys, 

Skeered so bad that they wus nearly dead. 

An’ when they’re mighty sho’ the stars won’t bite 
or holler “boo”— 

They grow a little bigger an’ more bold; 

They look so all important—like they’us warmin’ 
uv the way 

Ter keep that big ol’ sun frum ketchin’ cold. 

Now they’re gittin’ bigger, fer they’re swellin’ 
with their pride, 

The sun’s a-follerin’ uv ’em close behin’; 

An’ the fust thing yer know—it’s broad day¬ 
light— 

An’ a-gittin’ purty close ter breakfast time. 



48 


HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


GEORGIA’S BIRTHDAY 


Old Georgia’s had a birthday 
And she’s feeling mighty proud 
Of every little candle on her cake; 

And folks all over Georgia 
Are singing strong and loud 
Her praises—’til the very forests wake. 

With sweet potato pudding, 

Roasted possum, pumpkin pie, 

A thousand other things that she can raise, 

Now honest—what’s the logic 
Of her taking second place? 

Here’s to Georgia! Long and happy be her days. 

So hurry up there, Susie, 

Get the turnips and the beets; 

And Johnny, you cut off the turkey’s head. 

And Mary, fix the lettuce, 

The tomatoes and the nuts, 

And bring a dozen apples that are red. 

The celery is crisping 

And the rice is in the mould, 

Jennie, put the pie crust in the pan; 

We’ll fix our products dinner 

And we’ll make old Georgia proud, 

By using things she grows just all we can. 




HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


49 


A GEORGIA GREETING 


Old Georgia is a grand old state 
On that we all agree, 

We’re partial to her red old hills, 

Proud of her history. 

With Georgia Day a-coming soon— 
Her violets sweet and blue— 

I send this Georgia Greeting, Friend, 
Straight from my heart to you. 







50 


HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


GEORGIA SMILES 


To the National Educational Association. 
Meeting in Atlanta—June, 1929. 

Oh Georgia! smile your sweetest 
For guests have come to call, 

Don’t you hear them knocking at your door? 
From Maine to California 
Our friends are trooping in, 

Just think of all the happiness in store! 

Wave your wand of magic 
To coax the rose’s bloom, 

So fragrant, and with beauty sweet and rare; 

Call a million song birds 

And have them all to sing 

A chorus made of welcomes on the air. 

Have your sun-kist peaches 

Blush with a deeper red 

And w T hisper to your melons on the vines 

To store a special sweetness 

Within their crimson hearts, 

And waft your coolest breezes through our pines. 
Oh Georgia! do them honor— 

They come from North and South, 

They come to us from homes both East and West; 
Oh Georgia! smile your sweetest, 

Extend a gracious hand, 

And show them that your welcome’s of the best. 




HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


51 


WELCOME 


To the National Educational Association. 

Atlanta—June—1929 

Old Georgia’s justly proud to have 
Such splendid folks with her, 

From Rabun Gap to Tybee Light 
There’s been a mighty stir; 

Her teachers and her children say 
They all must have a part— 

They’ll help you find the warm place down 
In good old Georgia’s heart. 

We hope you like Atlanta 

And we hope you like our smile, 

We wish that each of you might stay 
And bide with us a while. 

The old South’s best we offer—so 
Take anything in view, 

For what was ours—is now yours, friends— 
Georgia belongs to you. 







































































































• • 






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S^i<s3*r 

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Along Comes Spring 

















HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


55 


SPRING IS HERE 


Yes, Spring is here. How do I know? 

Because, I want to get my hoe 
And spade; 

And then I want to roam about 

’Til every plan is figured out 
And made; 

Then I’ll begin to dig and hoe 

And plant wee seed all in a row— 

Such joy! 

There’s nothing like the thrill it brings 

To watch for little growing things— 

So coy. 

Yes, Spring is here. How do I know? 

Because I feel the urge to go 
And see 

If I a little hat can find 

That would be suited to my mind 
And me; 

I covet shades that tulips wear— 

Those gorgeous colors in their hair— 
And though 

I am no tulip—still you see 

A jaunty hat would improve me 
I know. 

Yes, Spring is here. How do I know? 

A robin red breast told me so. 




56 


HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


Besides—just now—she beckoned me 
From right behind that dogwood tree— 
She needs my help—so I must run— 
For painting jonquills must be fun. 


A SPRING GREETING 


They say, my friend, that Springtime 
Is a subject that’s taboo; 

My! what a joke ! As if the thrill 
That old Spring brings to you 
And me compares to anything; 

She thrills us with a joy 
As great as does the swimming-hole 
Fill any healthy boy. 

You planted all your seedlets? 

Have your birds begun to nest? 

(So many lovely things to do 
There’s scarcely time for rest—) 

Glad Greetings, Friend, I’m sure that you 
And I will just make haste 
To let no single wonder 

Of our Springtime go to waste. 




HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


57 


ATG. S. C. W. 
A Valentine 


Been dreaming lots about you— 
I’ll say! 

Been thinking lots about you— 
Each day! 

Been wanting to write a poem— 
To you! 

And saying lots of nice things— 
All true! 

Thought I might use Latin— 

Or French! 

But then I couldn’t read it— 

A cinch! 

I’d put in ’bout the roses— 

Oh my! 

And violets—and—what else? 
My eye! 

For here the poem’s finished— 
No place! 

To say how much I like you— 
No space! 

A Valentine this should be— 
Gee whiz! 

And maybe you don’t know it— 
But ’tis! 




58 


HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


A SPRING SONG 


Sing a song of Springtime 
A basket full of seed, 

All the family hurry out, 

And pull up every weed. 

When the ground was dug up 
The seed began to sing 
“Plant us quickly, oh dear us— 

For we must bloom this Spring!” 
Johnny and his Sister Sue 

They helped with rake and hoe 
And everybody held their breath 
While seed fell in a row. 

After days of sun and rain 
The seed began to sprout, 
Invitations sent abroad— 

“The Garden’s coming out.” 
Canterbury Bells began 
To play a lovely chime, 

Trumpet Flower blew a blast 
To let us know ’twas time 
There to gather at the spot 

Where all the guests were due— 
Oh, ’twas fun, for I received 
An invitation too. 




HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


59 


Zinnia danced the minuet 
For he was very bold, 
Courtesied both right and left 
To lovely Marigold, 

Petunia, so sweet and shy, 

Just gave us quite a shock— 

As she slyly flirted with 
The stately Hollyhock. 

Read the daily papers so 

You’ll learn what ’twas about— 
And next year you must surely go 
To the Garden’s “coming out.” 



60 


HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


LADY APRIL 


That April is a lady with a fickle min’ they say, 

But I’d ruther tak’ my chances ’long with ’er any 
day 

Then any o’ the other months that happen ’round 
this way; 

Fer April’s skies is bluest, 

An’ April’s eyes is truest, 

Oh, April is a lady that’s wurth any songster‘s lay! 

We all forgit the winter winds when April’s face 
appears, 

The bird’s all hunt their tune books—the flowers 
forgit their fears; 

An’ we all welcome April though we know she’ll 
box our ears; 

Fer April’s skies is brightest, 

An’ April’s heart is lightest, 

Then let her box—she’ll kiss the hurt—I’d like 
ter know who keres. 




HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


61 


Sumtimes she’ll be a-smilin’ like thar warn’t no 
ache or pain— 

Look out! her tears ’ill drench yer! fer she’ll be 
raisin’ cain! 

But we will soon forgit—an’ keep lovin’ jes’ the 
same; 

Fer April’s eyes is truest, 

An’ April’s skies is bluest, 

An’ somehow — without April — livin’ would be 
pretty tame. 

The birds begin a-callin’ ter each other from the 
hills, 

The flowers ’gin ter primp in lookin’-glasses o’ the 
rills; 

An’ my heart’s nigh ter bustin’—but joy never 
kills; 

My feet is alius lightest, 

My eyes is alius brightest, 

When Lady April curls her hair an’ fixes up her 
frills. 



62 


HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


AT G. S. C. W. 
Hello! 


Hello there, Friend, this is for you, 

A word to say—“Why howdy-do!” 

And at the sending of this line 
I hope that you are feeling fine. 

Most every day I think, by heck, 

I’m likely to become a wreck, 

For studying as I have to do 
For ’zams and tests to put them through, 
With just eight hours to sleep, I’ll say, 
(And only three square meals a day) 

No wonder I am feeling blue 
And had to send this line to you. 

So write me now a word of cheer 
And send it quickly—that’s a dear! 

A thing that makes one feel like new 
Is just to hear from friends like you. 




HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


63 


ATG. S. C.W. 
Feeling Better 


Oh yes, I’m feeling better 
I hope that so are you— 

And that we all have heard the last 
About that awful flu. 

The violets are blooming— 

The birds about to sing— 

And I so want a little frock 
With colors of the spring. 

But since I know I cannot— 

I surely will not cry 
But go down to the tea room there 
To eat a slice of pie. 

I’m going to have that spring frock, 
Though it will not be soon— 

But I know just the minutes now 
Until the first of June. 

So this is just to tell you 
I’m busy as a bee— 

But thinking lots about you as 
By this you surely see. 

So sit down now and write me 
And tell me all the news 
’Bout who is dead—and who is wed— 
I’m sure you’ll not refuse. 




64 


HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


SPRING TONIC 


Been mighty busy at my house, 

I hope it’s nice and clean— 

I scrubbed behind its little ears 
And painted its blinds green. 

I may have left a grain of dust 
When I went out to see 
If ’twas a red bird in the yard 
Kept calling out to me. 

I put a precious rambling rose 
Where it would show the most; 

I twined a morning glory vine 
Around a back porch post. 

My little house just blinks its eyes, 

And then peeks out to see— 

As if to whisper as it smiles, 

“Can this be really me?” 

And oh, the tonic that there is 
In one good painting spree, 

Spring fever needs just such a dose— 
It works quite well with me. 

Now—I’ll put on my pinkest dress 
Out on the porch to rock— 

And as I watch the flowers grow 
I’ll darn a little sock. 

No longer should spring cleaning bring 
That fear—’twas once an awful thing! 




HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


65 


AT G. S. C. W. 


Spring Exams 

Haven’t written much to you— 

Hope I’m living when I’m through. 
Studying morning, noon and night— 
Sometimes thinking I’m not bright. 
Here a ’zam—there a test— 

For poor me there’s no rest. 

Pretty well—’speet no letter 
’Til this child’s feeling better. 







66 


HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


A SONG OF THE RAIN 


Hush! 

Don’t yer hear the patter 
On the roofin’ uv yer house, 

Like the fairies wus a havin’ uv a dance? 

You recognize that sound? 

Law! I’ll interjuice yer, then; 

Ho, Rain-drop! this is Mister Igno-rance! 
Look! 

See that rose a flirtin’ 

With the elfin uv the rain, 

An’ hidin’ ’hin the trellis, jes’ ter tease? 

While she shakes the dewy kisses 
Frum her crimson velvet lips, 

An’ sets that elfin beggin’ on his knees. 

List! 

Don’t yer hear the rustle 
Uv the green fern’s dainty dress, 

As she’s singin’ uv a song so sweet an’ low? 

“Oh once I primped my tresses 
In the brooklet’s lookin’ glass— 

Mister Rain-drop, I think we’ve met before!” 




HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


67 


Hush! 

Hear that bird a-singin’ 

Like he’d split his little self— 

A’bendin’ an’ a-swayin’ in the tree? 

Sassy thing! hear him mockin’ 

An’ a twittin’ uv the rain— 

“Mister Rain-drop, yer can’t hurt me.” 

Look! 

Don’t yer see that ’brella 
A-walkin’ down the street? 

I wonder who’s a hidin’ ’neath its brim? 

Thar! he kissed her—an’ she’s blushin’— 

An’ the look that’s in her eyes, 

Shows she thinks thar’s nothin’ livin’ ’ceptin’him. 
Law! 

See the earth a-swellin’ 

An’ a puck’rin’ up her lips 

Ter meet the rain-drop’s kisses cornin’ sweet? 
Whole creation’s glad it’s livin’ 

Jes’ ter see the daisies’ eyes 

Twinklin’ up like drowned starlets at yer feet! 







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A Little Nonsense Now and Then —” 




























HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


71 


JUST THE SAME 


You may walk the narrow way 
And be careful what you say, 

But the folks will talk about you 
Just the same. 

You may own a rosy cheek 
Caused by walking ’til you’re weak, 

But they’ll say you put it on there 
Just the same. 

You may sing a little song 
Be it short or be it long, 

There’ll be some to criticise you 
Just the same. 

You may try to help the town 
Make it beautiful around, 

But the folks will say you’re meddling 
Just the same. 

So what’s the difference 
Some were born but to complain, 

But they’ll all be dead a hundred 
Years from now. 

Just the same 
Just the same— 

So go on and do your duty 
Just the same. 




72 


HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


CLEAN-UP CAMPAIGN SONG 


(Tune—Pack Up Your Troubles) 

Pack away your papers in your own trash can 
And we’ll all smile! 

Don’t let them blow about your neighbor’s yard 
You see—it’s not the style. 

Do not start her worrying— 

She has troubles all the while—so— 

Pack away your papers in your own trash can 
And watch her smile. 

Plant running roses on your old back fence 
They’ll grow, grow, grow. 

You’ll soon think that they are—“immense”— 
You’ll learn to love them so; 

And what’s the use of worrying? 

Go out and plant some more—oh— 

Plant running roses on your old back fence—- 
And watch—them—grow! 




HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


73 


Please keep your chickens in a nice little coop 
They DO—scratch—so— 

Maybe your neighbor has a few little plants 
That she is trying to grow; 

So why should you be willing 
To let them worry her—SO— 

Please keep your chickens in a nice little coop, 
She’ll smile—we know. 

Get you a swatter and begin to swat, 

And swat—swat—swat! 

Swat ’til you kill every fly that roosts 
Anywhere about your lot; 

Chase ’em—bat ’em—beat ’em— 

Just be right on the dot—oh— 

Get you a swatter and begin to swat— 

And swat—swat—swat! 



74 


HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


WORDS OF ADVICE 


To Frederica in 1924 

To take advice from a mother-in-law 
May not be the wisest thing, 

And still—she might be able 
Some good advice to bring. 

And this is what she’ll try to do 
On the eve of your wedded bliss— 
And every line of this advice 
Is sealed up with a kiss. 

If, some morning, out of sorts 

Your hubby may chance to wake— 
Just dip into the flour bin 
And make him a batter-cake. 

For did you ever see a man 

No matter how hard a case— 

Who could resist a batter-cake 
In front of a smiling face? 

We all know too much sugar 
Isn’t good for any man, 

But try to sprinkle some about 
With discretion if you can; 

But, really, you shouldn’t need so much 
For if you’ll think a minute, 

You mighty-near could sweeten things 
By dipping your finger in it. 




HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


75 


I’m very, very, very sure 

That you know how to make 
A dandy cup of coffee— 

If not—for goodness sake— 

Go to your “ma” and beg of her 
To show you when and how— 

For a good hot cup of coffee 
Has prevented many a row. 

And now, my dear, if any day 
A cloud may chance to loom, 

And the sun grow dim and hazy— 

And the world seems full of gloom, 
’Cause Hubby wasn’t very sweet, 

Just send him straight to me— 

I’ll spank him good—then dry your eyes 
And make you a cup o’ tea. 

Now, this last word—I love you— 
And tell you from the start, 

That I’m the kind of mother-in-law 
That’s going to take your part. 

I’m going to see you—sometimes— 
But I will not stay long, 

For I wish, dear, your life to be 
One grand, sweet, song. 









76 


HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


I LOVE ONIONS 


I love onions! 

They make me sigh— 
But then—most women 
Love to cry. 

I love onions! 

’Tis hard to know 
Just when to eat 
The things—but oh! 

I love onions! 

The first to shout 
When others eat— 

“Do put him out”— 
I’d be—but oh! 

I do love onions. 




HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


77 


CHRISTMAS DAY 


(Grandma Spends Christmas With Junior) 

’Twas late Christmas Day and in all of the house 
Just one creature stirred. The proverbial mouse 
Had hidden away just scared out of its wits— 
The dog was a-rest from a series of fits. 

The cat, hanging on to the high back yard fence 
Was ready to jump should the war re-commence. 
For early that day—at the first crack of dawn, 
The neighbors were waked by the blast of a horn— 
The loud creak and rumble of engine and train— 
The roar of a drum beat with might and with main. 
The floor space was covered with blocks and with 
toys 

Like Santa Claus always brings good little boys; 
For daddy had written a letter or two 
And mother had told junior all that she knew 
About the good Saint and his reindeers and sleigh 
And what a grand time would be had Christmas 
Day. 




78 


HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


While grandma just counted the moments that 
sped 

Until the time came to tuck Junior in bed. 

’Twas just a short lull while the young three year 
old 

Re-donned the costume of an Indian bold— 

With gun held aloft, and with war whoop and 
shout 

He danced ’round the chair where—with tongue 
hanging out, 

His daddy had flopped, just a wee breath to catch 
That he might be able this young son to match. 
With eyes all sunk in and with ice to her head 
His mother had wearily crawled into bed; 

Poor grandma was sitting, her mouth all aghast, 
’Twas like nothing she’d ever known in the past. 
The people who lived in apartments below 
Were wild-eyed and haggard—and sent up to 
know 

If there was a chance that hostilities cease 
Or they’d be compelled to abandon the lease. 
The messenger who came and opened the door 
Was met with the loudest of all the uproar, 

A tommyhawk flung by this young Indian brave— 
And ran back down stairs quick his own scalp to 
save. 



HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


79 


And still the young hopeful—as all thru the day— 
Kept calling for someone to come help him play. 
He called for his dad—but his dad couldn’t stir— 
He called for his ma—but he couldn’t move her— 
He looked at grandma but she shook a weak 
head— 

And joined his poor mother who lay on the bed. 
He passed the mouse-hole, it swooned of sheer 
fright, 

And lay in a huddle far into the night; 

He went for the dog—but the dog had passed 
out— 

He made for the cat with a war-whoop and shout— 
’Twas the last ever seen of that poor pussy-cat, 
For nobody knew T where she ever stopped at, 

“A pretty come off—” says this youngster of 
three— 

“There’s no one who’s able to come play with me— 
I’ll go it alone—” so with might and with main, 
He started the Day out all over again. 



80 


HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


IF 


To a Friend Sailing 
With apologies to Kipling 
If you can keep your step when all about you 
The other folks are tottering as they sail— 
If you can stand up straight when all around you 
The others, limp, are hanging o’er the rail— 
If you can calmly keep your lips from twitching 
While others madly dive across the deck— 

If you can really keep your cheeks from paling 
While others wish that they were dead—by 
heck; 

If you can stand the smell of cooking dinners 
While others curse the day that they were 
born— 

If you can calmly dine from soup to coffee 
While others in their bunks do lie forlorn— 

If you can brave the rise and fall of vessel 
While others wave about like blinded bats— 

If you can stay above and love the swaying 
While others creep below like wounded rats; 
If you can watch the foam upon the waters 
While others mourn the coming of the gale— 

If you can keep your grit while blowing tempest 
Doth make the cheek of others blanch and pale— 
If you can stand the waves and never mind it 
While others whine about the way they soak— 
Then you deserve the greatest trip of any, 

I hope that you will have it—that’s no joke! 




HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


81 


TO THE WOMEN’S CLUBS 
We all remember how we’ve heard 
That in the great Stone Age, 

Woman was classed with things that now 
Are kept within a cage. 

Her royal spouse would hie him home— 
And each day after dinner, 

With his royal club he’d lay her low— 
This grand old Stone Age sinner. 
Blest be the time—blest be the place— 
Blest be the land and age— 

Blest be the woman, who by love, 

Has opened up her cage. 

Forever blest—the fact that she, 
Without being deemed a sinner, 

May be in attendance on her club 
When hubby comes home to dinner. 
So here’s to the women’s clubs, I say, 
Long may they ever live! 

Their motto now and always be— 

“To Love—to Serve—to Give!” 

And thankful be each time we think 
Of that old Stone Age sinner— 
Who beat his wife up with his club 
Each day when he went to dinner! 









82 


HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


JOSIAH DIGGS 


Josiah Diggs felt bad one day 
He really was quite sick, 

And so he told his folks to send 
For the doctor pretty quick. 

The doctor came and said—“You’ll die— 
I’m mighty sorry for you, 

For coffins are so awful high 
Takes a fortune to see you thru. 

The hearse, the flowers, and carriages, 
And men to dig the grave— 

By time your widow’s paid them all, 

There won’t be nothing to save.” 

Josiah sat up straight in bed 
And drew a terrible sigh, 

And said—'“Please hand me my old shoes, 
I can’t afford to die. 

The undertaker—he shan’t have 
What I’ve worked for so hard— 

Just wait a while before you plan 
To lay me ’neath the sod. 

I’m terrible sick—and you can see 
That I ain’t tellin’ no lie— 

But git my shoes, and do it quick! 

I can’t afford to die.” 




HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


83 


Josiah went into the swamp 
And cut him down a tree, 

He split it—sawed it—planed it— 

As pretty as could be. 

He got some nails and he rigged up 
A coffin from that wood, 

And tried to make it fire-proof 
As nearly as he could. 

He planted all the flower seed 
He got his fingers on, 

He dug a hole, six—six by four— 

And said, “High Cost, begone! 

I’m ready now to shuffle off 
This mortal coil of mine, 

Wife—don’t you cry, nor weep, nor mourn— 
I surely don’t mind dyin’— 

“The undertaker—he won’t get 
What I worked for so hard, 

I’m ready now, so get to work, 

And lay me ’neath the sod. 

I’m terrible sick, as you can see— 

For I ain’t tellin’ no lie, 

So hurry up and make your plans— 

Now I can afford to die!” 



84 


HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


“LEST YOU FORGET” 


(On going to the hospital) 

I’m going to take a holiday; 

This is to say adieu, 

And let you know where I will be 
So I may hear from you, 

I’m leaving home on this fine jaunt 
’Bout July twenty-five— 

Away for sixty days to be 
Then home—if I’m alive. 

Don’t get alarmed for I am sure 
That I’ll be getting well 
And hope to stay on this old earth 
For quite a little spell. 

So—don’t forget to remember— 
I’m giving you a cue— 

’Twould bring a lot o’ cheer to me 
To hear from folks like you. 

You’ll probably guess 
These “cheeky” lines 
Are from—yours truly 
—Nelle Womack Hines. 




HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


85 


SHE WORRIES ME 


l never did think much of Sue, 

She worries me; 

She’s never ready for her cue, 

She worries me; 

For if with her you have a date, 

She’s just about a half hour late. 

She worries me. 

I never did care much for Lou 
She worries me; 

She never does wait for her cue, 

She worries me; 

She’ll call you up fifteen before, 

“Just come on quick—pep up—let’s go!” 
She worries me. 

I like a good old steady gait- 

just not too soon—and not too late. 




86 


HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


TOAST 


To a Merry Heart 

“A merry heart goes all the way,” 
That’s what they say, my dearie; 

If weather be not fair and gay— 
Why should w r e not be merry? 

If we do write so many times 
To folks who will not heed us, 

And plan and work and work and plan, 
For causes we think need us. 

And if we do lose beauty sleep 

And grow quite grey and haggard, 
At least we may console ourselves 
That we be not a laggard. 

Most any bird can sing a tune 
When skies are bright, my dearie, 
But when the day is drear and long— 
Needs must the heart be merry. 




HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


87 


Most all of us can count our friends 
By thousands—when ’tis sunny; 

They “glad hand in and glad hand out”— 
Their mouths—they won’t melt honey. 

But let old Sol decide to frown 
And skies be getting cloudy— 

Sometimes ’tis quite a little spell 
Before we hear their “howdy.” 

So give to me the friend so fine 
Who ever greets me cheery, 

Tho gloomy days may come and go— 

Still can her heart be merry. 

And leave with me the friend so fine 
Who gives the “glad hand” ever— 

And may my guardian angel see 
That parted we be—never! 

So here’s a toast to your “glad hand”— 
And to your heart so merry; 

And may you live a hundred years! 

That is my wish—my dearie. 



















































































* • 







































































































































































“^Vhen Mary Sings” 












HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


91 


WHEN MARY SINGS 


(Set to Music) 

When Mary sings! 

The mockin’ bird jes’ gives his wings a shake, 
So mournful like—and seys it ain’t no use 
Ter try to make no other music, 

When Mary sings. 

When Mary sings! 

Jes’ all the little critters hush their notes; 
’Pears like they can’t start trilling 
In their throats—poor things! 

When Mary sings. 

When Mary sings! 

My heart jes’ stops— 

Then beats its tiny wings against my breast— 
’Lows ain’t no use ter try to stop a-lovin’ her— 
The little imp! 

When Mary sings. 

(All verses in this divison set to music by the 
author.) 




92 


HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


AN ALUMNAE HYMN 


Georgia State College for Women 

Dedicated to the Memory of Marvin M. Parks 
(Set to Music) 

Years may come and years may vanish, 
Measured tread of Time go on; 

Love for Thee, our Alma Mater, 

Keeps our hearts radiant as morn. 

May thy truths dwell ever in us, 

Faith in Thee keep mountain high; 

May the ideals oft imparted 
Cherished be, and never die. 

Hallowed is Thy name, dear College, 

In Thy children’s hearts enshrined; 

Mem’ry brings to us a vision— 
Mother-arms around us twined. 

May Thy years be rich and many, 

And from sorrow ever free; 

Oh, we pray, dear Alma Mater 
God’s rich blessings rest on Thee. 




HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


93 


THE CALL OF THE WOODS 


(Set to Music) 

Oh, away, away I long to roam 

To the woods beyond some distant hill; 

There where all the wild birds find a home, 
There to stroll beside a murmuring rill; 

Where the scent of hawthorne fills the air, 
Where the wild rose in the wind doth sway, 

There to free my soul from every care, 
Come, my heart, oh, let’s away! 

There I want to find a wood-thrush nest, 
Hear the mother calling low and sweet; 

There to sit upon some bank to rest 
Smiling on the violets at my feet. 

There to watch the checkered sunlight gleam, 
Catch the fragrance on the scented air; 

There to fill my soul with peace—and dream 
That my life holds not a care. 

Then away my heart, we’ll go, we’ll go! 
You and I and leave the world behind; 

Rare delight we’ll find and that I know, 

For the woods are always good and kind. 

There, my heart, we’ll sing a little song, 
With no care for just a little day; 

Come, my heart, I hear a joy-bell ring— 
To the woods we will away! 




94 


HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


TO KNOW 


(Set to Music) 

A flower bloomed on a mountain side 
In the night wind bending slow, 

But never a dream of loneliness came 
Because it did not know. 

To rest a while on its fragrant bloom 
A wee bird chanced one day; 

A low sweet note—a flutter of wing, 

And it passed its songful way. 

That the sun went down in a cloud that night 
It may or may not be true; 

But a tremor shook the dew from the flower— 
For loneliness it knew. 

Oh, love! be kind—only your eyes 
Can keep my heart aglow; 

Wasted are the years behind 
Because I did not know! 




HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


95 


WHITE DOVE 


Indian Love Song 
(Set to Music) 

Ah, the silver moon 
Shines upon thy hair, 

Making my heart swoon 
To see thy beauty, 

My white dove. 

Ah, the swaying willow 
Never thy grace can show; 

Ah, the stars that shine above me, 
Pale before thine eyes, oh, love! 
My white dove. 

When thy footstep’s lightness 
Falls not upon mine ear, 

Then, the snows of winter 
Fall upon my heart. 

Ah, all joy will die— 

And so will I, 

My white dove. 




!><; 


HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


OH, MIS’ LINDY 


(Set to Music) 

Oh, Mis’ Lindyl you oughter bin erlong, 

All dem niggers wus tryin’ ter sing er song; 

A big black man wid er butcher knife 
Moughty-near tuk erway my life, 

Right den, Mis’ Lindy—you almos’ lost yer man. 
When he sed he sho’ loved you, 

I looked at him and sed—“You do! 

Nigger, you jes’ well ter start 

Sayin’ yer prayers—we’s gwin ter part!” 

So den, Mis’ Lindy, I karved him ter de bone. 

Oh, Mis’ Lindy! I loves you, honey chile! 

Clar ter goodness! you moughty-near sets me 
wild! 

I’ll tak’ you ’bout in a big red car, 

Sumpin’ ter eat when we gits thar! 

Hi-yi, Mis’ Lindy—jes’ hurry right erlong. 

I ain’t got no time ter waste, 

Baby-gal you better mak’ haste; 

Dinah, Jane and Sarah, chile, 

Is waitin’ eround fer me ter smile, 

So den—Mis’ Lindy—you better mak’ up your 
min’. 




HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


97 


Oh, Mis’ Lindy! I got er little home. 

Honey suckles s-climbin’ ’round de comb; 
Chickens chirpin’ ’round de do’— 

Er dog ter bark—er cow ter low— 

Hi-yi-Mis’ Lindy! don’t dat sound good ter you? 
What! you seys you don’t love me? 

You acts jes’ lik’ er bumble-bee! 

Goodby gal, I sho’ is fru— 

Knowed all erlong you wouldn’t do! 

So long Mis’ Lindy—you won’t see me no more! 








98 


HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


DEAR LITTLE BABE 

A Lullaby to Emmett Womack Hines, Jr. 

Born Jan. 6th, 1926. 

(Set to Music) 

O, little babe with cuddly form 
Against your mother’s heart, 
Drowsy eyes and cheeks o’ pink 
And rosebud lips apart; 

Close thine eyes and go to sleep 
For mother-love is near— 

Nothing can disturb thy rest 
While mother-care is near. 

So go to sleep and rest, 

Safe on mother’s breast; 

Sweetly sleep, dear little babe, 

For naught can harm thee now. 

Softly purple shadows fall 
As day fades in the west; 

Rosy dreams will come as mother’s 
Song lulls thee to rest; 

Angels guard thy life as mother’s 
Prayers arise for thee— 

While thy little boat’s a-sail 
Upon the slumber sea. 




HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


99 


WHY DO I LOVE YOU? 


(Set to Music) 

Why do I love you ? 

I cannot tell you sweet. 

I love you for everything! 

For the clover that’s leaning 
To kiss your twinkling feet, 

For the birdlings that 
In joyous springtime sing! 

For the sunny light in your gold-brown hair— 
For the curl that doth kiss your ear— 

For the coral red of your lips so rare— 

For your soul that is crystal clear. 

Oh! the rose, she hides blushing, 

For she knows you are near, 

While her sweetness the honey-bee doth sip; 
But all he could gather 
In a thousand years 

Could be found in one kiss from your lips! 
Why do I love you? 

For your eyes that bring me rest; 

God grant we may never part! 

But dearest, I love you, 

The deepest and the best— 

Because you are mine, sweetheart! 




100 


HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


I ONLY KNOW 


I only know, somewhere, somewhere, 
Beneath God’s glorious skies, 

A maiden sweet 
Awaits to greet 
Me with tender, lovelit eyes. 

I only know sometime, sometime, 

In the happy is-to-be, 

This maiden fair 
With wind-blown hair 
Will wander home to me. 

I only know, my love, my love, 

Thru sunshine and cloudy weather, 

Thou, maiden sweet, 

And my willing feet, 

Will wander thru life together. 

Note—Above poem written at age of eighteen 
—set to music in 1924 as a wedding song for son 
Emmett Womack Hines, and his bride, Frederica 
Boatright. 




HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


101 


WITHIN 


(Set to Music) 

The sobbing wind, so mournfully, 
Sweeps by my window pane; 

And on it, gently tapping, 

Comes the silver-fingered rain. 

But neither rain nor sobbing wind 
Keeps from my hearth its light— 
For there I sit beside 
My little fire— 

Sweet, warm, and bright. 

Life’s piercing wind may strike me down 
Tossing my soul about; 

Life’s rain may beat upon me 

Bringing with it pain and doubt; 

But neither rain nor piercing wind 
Keeps from my heart its light— 

For deep within there dwells 
A little joy— 

Sweet, warm and bright. 




102 


HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


DEAR OLD BALDWIN 


(Set to Music) 

Dedicated to the School Children of Baldwin Co. 

There’s a spot beyond compare 
And I call it my dear home, 

And I hope in all the years to come 
That far I may not roam. 

This spot lies in Georgia’s heart 
Nature gave it gifts so rare, 

They were showered on this blessed place 
And made it very fair. 

Chorus 

How we love you, dear old Baldwin, 

We’re proud of all your history; 

How we love your red old hills, 

Forests green and rippling rills, 

And the beauty of your hillsides in the springtime. 
We’re glad to be your children, Baldwin, 

A heritage of pride is ours, 

A noble pioneer band 
And the fairest of the land 

Made their homes within your borders, dear old 
Baldwin. 




HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


103 


THE MAIDEN AND THE NIGHTINGALE 


(Set to Music) 

Not alone for its sweet music 

Does my heart long for your song; 
But, because I know at nightfall 
My love’s coming won’t be long. 

Soft his eyes as dusky star-beams, 
Sweet and tender is his voice, 

List! oh bird, is that his footstep? 
Oh, my heart, he comes! Rejoice! 


Soon his hand will reach for my hand, 
Soon his eyes will find my own. 

Oh, my heart doth leap with gladness! 
Nightingale—sing on ! Sing on! 









104 


HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


MY CABIN IN THE PINES 


(Set to Music) 

There is a little cabin and it sits among the pines 
And there I love to be at close of day, 

I love to watch the swaying of the honeysuckle 
vines 

And it’s there I lay my troubles all away, 

And there I catch the music of the songbirds in the 
trees, 

The peace it brings is worth your golden mines. 
I love to go a-roaming, a-roaming in the gloaming 
’Round this little old log cabin in the pines. 
Chorus 

I love to sit a-dreaming 
Beside the cabin door 
And see the firelight gleaming 
As shadows come and go; 

An old owl, whispers “Who-oo-oo-?” 

The West Wind answers, “You-oo-oo-” 

I love you little cabin in the pines. 

I often wonder what the future days may have in 
store 

And if ’twill be my lot the world to roam; 

And if I’ll miss the fragrance of the rose above the 
door 

Of that little old log cabin that’s my home. 




HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


105 


But oh I know I’d dream each night of this dear 
little place, 

That nestles in the honeysuckle vines, 

And long to be a-roaming, a-roaming in the gloam¬ 
ing 

’Round this little old log cabin in the pines. 

A SUMMERTIME SONG 


Dedicated to the Summer School, Georgia State 
College for Women 
(Set to Music) 

Tra la la la la la la la la 

We’ll sing a summer-time song; 

Tra la la la la la la la la 

So here’s to the days that are long; 

To the rose so fair in your garden rare, 

That is wooed by the passing breeze; 

To the larkspur blue as heav’ns own hue, 

To the grace of the swaying trees; 

To the lark’s sweet song as she wings along, 

Her notes of cheer rising high; 

For the sun’s warm rays old earth sings praise 
On her breast as they softly lie. 

For the gentle rain which comes again 
To make the green things spring; 

For all these blessings from our heart 
This summer song we sing; 




106 


HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


Chorus 

Tra la la la la la la la la la—etc., etc., etc. 

Tra la la la la la la la la 

We’ll sing a summer time song 

Tra la la la la la la la la 

So here’s to the days that are long; 

To a shady nook and a welcome book 
To while away an hour; 

To the rest it brings while our glad heart sings 
With joy of its soothing power; 

To the friends who care our hours to share 
And make them doubly blest; 

For the playtime that we all must have 
To add the needed zest. 

For the spirit fine like sparkling wine 
That strengthens everything, 

For all these blessings from our heart 
This summer song we sing. 




Hollyhocks and Butterflies 







































HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


109 


HOLLYHOCKS AND BUTTERFLIES 


Said the hollyhock to the butterfly, 

“Oh, you beautiful thing! 

Oh, your wonderful colors! 

Oh, your lovely wing! 

You brighten with your coming 
E’en the most glowing day— 

While I but grow from year to year 
In a lowly humdrum way.” 

Said the butterfly to the hollyhock, 

“You dear old modest thing! 

You furnish sweets for all my need, 
And rest for tired wing; 

Though far I go I still can know 
That you are waiting here— 

How splendid that your gorgeous bloom 
Should come from year to year!” 

E’en hollyhocks and butterflies 
Have some of mortal’s ways— 

They need a little comforting, 

They need a little praise. 




110 


HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


IN MY GARDEN 


I 

I’m sure from God a blessing falls 
On my garden fresh at dawn. 

There comes a call—one soft bird-note— 
Then anthem clear from feathered throat 
Is mounting high at dawn. 

Oh, hour of wonder! Tints of gold— 

Of azure—pink—at dawn. 

My heart and I with rapture gaze 
And lend our song to nature’s praise 
Ascending high at dawn. 

Oh, joyous hour! I’m gladly sure 
God blesses me at dawn. 

My heart says so. Hail coming day! 

Once more to laugh! To work! To play! 
Thus sings my heart at dawn. 




HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


111 


II 

I’m sure from God a blessing falls 
As my garden glows at noon. 

In sun’s life-giving ray there grows 
Fair lily, violet and rose— 

Oh, sweet to live at noon! 

Wee winged things float to and fro 
In my garden glad at noon. 

From distant chimes faint steals a sound, 
And from His throne as God looks down— 
He smiles—I’m sure—at noon. 

III 

So—with the peace of twilight hour 
My heart and I at dusk— 

The day’s work done—and both a-smile— 
I’m sure God sits with us a while 
In my garden sweet at dusk. 



112 


HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


MY DAY 


Bless you— 

Little babe on my breast; 
Bless you— 

Little bird in your nest; 
Bless you— 

Little cloud in the sky; 
Bless you— 

Little breeze floating by. 
Bless you— 

Little flowers in the sun; 
Bless you— 

Butterflies, everyone; 

Bless you— 

My friend with a smile, 
Cheering 

My heart all the while. 

God bless— 

In His splendid way, 

These things 

That make up my day. 




HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


113 


RECOMPENSE 


’Tis a good old world! 

So many things we have 
To make us glad; 

Misfortune comes our way, mayhap, 
Sometimes, our days are sad. 

But then—in love—to make amends, 
God sends us friends. 





114 


HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


WHISTLING 


I guess my dad’s the finest man 
That really ever was. 

He goes up town just every day— 

And he makes money—and oh gee! 

He buys so many pretty things 
For my dear mother. 

And as for me— 

He gives me marbles, baseballs, bats, 
Most everything you see. 

Of course I want to show him how 
I love him; so at night 
I run and set his slippers down 
Beside our fire bright. 

Then wait to hear him say—“Why son— 
That’s fine—”—but Dad—he— 

Just forgets. 

And I run out and whistle loud— 

Big boys don’t cry—but oh! 

There is the queerest little pain— 

Right here—above my tummy. 

I know my precious mother is 
The prettiest woman ever! 

She makes me things and always sees 
That ’hind my ears is clean. 

She helps me with my lessons too 
And fixes pies for me. 

I love my mother! She’s awful nice— 
And sometimes—gee! 




HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


115 


I hang around and do my best 
To try to help her but she says— 

“No—no—just run along— 

I’m busy now—you worry me—” 

And oh! 

A great big lump sticks in my throat 
And hurts me so— 

As I run out behind the barn— 

I just can’t whistle. 

You know my dog? Ain’t he a beaut? 
He seems to think I’m fine. 

He waits just out the kitchen door 
While I go in to dinner. 

And if I bring him back a bone 
He nearly twists his back in two— 
And his eyes say— 

“Just look at you !” 

But if I don’t bring anything 
He wags his tail off just the same— 
And runs and gets a little stick 
And brings it back to me. 

I grab him up and hug him quick 
And then oh gee! the fun we have! 

He runs in circles all around 
Just like he wants to please me—see? 
And when he creeps back to my feet 
I pat him on the head—oh gee! 

How I do love him! 

And the queerest little happiness 
Just flutters all around my heart— 
And my—how I can whistle! 



116 


HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


LITTLE NEIGHBORS 
To Katherine and Martha 


Little footsteps pit-a-pat 
Sounding on the floor, 

Who is that a tip-a-tap 
On my big back door? 

Must be little fairies there— 
Think I hear a wing— 

As I hasten to the door 
My heart ’gins to sing. 

Little faces smile at me, 

There they are—the two— 
“These are our new dresses we 
Come to show to you.” 

Then with me the little maids 
To the garden go— 

There with marigold and phlox 
Stage a fashion show. 

I forgot to mention that 
Dollies were there, too— 
And, of course, a tea party 
Was best—that I knew. 

So with zinnias flaming red 
Blue birds flying low— 

Cake and conversation wound 
Up the fashion show. 





LITTLE NEIGHBORS 
Martha and Katherine Carpenter 



























































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HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


117 


JUNE-HEARTED 


Em jes’ so tarnal happy, 

Don’t kere if the birds don’t tune— 
Don’t kere if the flowers ain’t bloomin’ 
My heart’s a perfect June. 

Don’t kere if the sky is weepin’, 

Don’t kere if her eyes do smart— 
Don’t kere ’bout the mists a-risin’— 

It’s lovely in my heart. 

Ol’ fellow, what’s the matter? 

You’re pale. Don’t tremble, start— 
I’m happy—and not crazy— 

There’s summer in my heart. 

Yer say—“what is the matter?” 

Jes’ listen—here it be— 

Las’ night—with the stars a-list’ning— 
Molly sed she wus lovin’ me! 




118 


HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


MY LADY’S FAN 


My lady’s fan is a wonderful thing! 

Rare seiges it has stood— 

’Tis part of her—and thus betrays 
My lady’s every mood. 

It has pressed my lady’s tear-dimned eye— 
It has kissed her cheek a-glow— 

O feathery fan of my lady fair, 

You have broken hearts galore ! 

You’ve sheltered my lady’s blushing face 
From my eye’s tender light— 

You’ve wafted me up to the realms of day 
And cast me back to night. 

But my lady’s fan I’ll ne’er forget— 

Though all else from my memory slips; 

’Twas first behind my lady’s fan— 

I kissed my lady’s lips! 




HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


119 


THE WAY PAP READ IT 


Pap was readin’ o’ Riley’s poems 
And this was the way he read: 

“When the frost is on your punkin—” 

Then he stopped and scratched his head. 

“Didn’t think he’d be a-makin’ 

Fun o’ gray hairs,” he softly said; 

“Yas—the frost IS on my punkin, 

But I’d ruther he’d call it head.” 




120 


HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


BECAUSE 


With wondering eyes he gazes up— 
“And will he down the chimney come 
And leave a rocky-horse for me ? 

Oh mother!” 

And then I nod and smile, you see, 
Because? 

I still believe in Santa Clause. 

With fingers on her parted lips 
She tip-toes toward me—eyes so bright, 
“Oh, mother, just behind that tree 
Are fairies dancing— 

Hear their feet— 

And see them swaying—” 

And then, I nod and smile, oh yes— 
Because? 

I still believe in fairies. 

Years Later 

’Tis late. He sits beside my bed, 

All others are asleep. 

“I wonder—mother—do you think 
That maybe, in the years to come, 

There will be someone—” 

Trails a pause— 

I press his hand, and nod and smile; 
Because? 

I still believe in love’s young dream. 




HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


121 


She shyly looks into my face, 

Sweet cheeks a-flush 

And girlish eyes brim-full of hope; 

“You really think he’ll come— 

Some day? Oh, mother!” 

I nod and smile, she strolls away 
To dream her dreams. And why do I? 
Because— 

I still believe Prince Charming comes. 







122 


HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


TOO BAD! 


Miss Petunia had a party 
On a summer’s day— 

Four O’clocks were not invited— 

So the Zinnias say. 

Red Verbena blushed and stammered— 
“Now—what shall we do? 

For they are our swellest family— 

We all know ’tis true.” 

That day came—and as the party 
Was at five—you see 
All the guests were just a-waiting 
For that time to be. 

What you think? The Four O’clocks 

Just 

Stopped 

Their 

Clocks! 

Too bad! 

So—no one went to the party, 

Which was very sad. 




HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


123 


I DO NOT KNOW 


I do not know why liquid, fluted notes 

Piped gently from the depths of quiet tree, 

Should drip like tears of golden joy and sink 
Into and stir the very heart of me. 

I do not know why lingering organ notes 
Should quiver back along the trail of years 

And touch a chord of pain, the harmony 

Quick flooding down upon my soul like tears. 

I do not know just why the Lord should make 
This longing in my heart so fierce a thing; 

But I do know that if I reach His Court 

He’s going to let me sing—and sing—and sing! 










































































































The Hills of Yesteryear 










HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


127 


THE HILLS OF YESTERYEAR 


Down from the hill 
There comes a faint trill, 

But it isn’t the bird that I hear; 

But the notes of a song 

As it echoes along 

From the hills of yesteryear. 

The voice of my boy as he runs to tell me 
Of a dear little nest that he found in a tree. 

In the sun’s glow 
The marigolds grow, 

But it isn’t the flowers I see; 

But a dear little face 
That’s trying to trace 
The flight of a honey-bee. 

And narrowed to nothing the world’s vague alarms 
As I feel the deep ache of my empty arms. 

Faint as a dream 

The fireflies gleam 

Among the magnolia’s blooms; 

But I do not see 

The snow covered tree 

Or heed the dusk’s trailing plumes; 

For out of the night’s dim yesteryear 
Comes laughter a-ringing—sweet and clear. 




128 


HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


Shouting with glee 
And waving to me, 

And leaping up into the air; 

Eyes all a-gleam 
As the fireflies beam 

He’s chasing—now here and now there; 

Oh dear little boy in your rollicking play, 

How you bring back the joys of a far off day! 

He leans to my kiss— 

Oh wonderful bliss 

Of childish eyes raised to my own; 

We both come to rest, 

His head on my breast 

As we swing in the twilight alone. 

Oh yesteryear boy! you’re smiling I see— 

You’re back—in your boy—to play here with me. 



HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


129 


SONG AND STAR 


Song in the heavens, 

Star in the sky, 

Shadows of three men 
On the sand lie. 
Fragrance of frankincense 
Faintly sweet, 

Pad, pad, pad, 

Of camels feet. 

Song in the heavens, 

Star in the sky, 

A mother’s croon, 

A babe’s low cry; 

Three men kneeling 
In prayer and awe, 
Before a throne 
Of hay and straw. 

Song in the heavens, 

Star in the sky, 

Joy in hearts— 
Triumphant cry; 

Praise from angels 
And earthly throng 
The star! the Babe ! 

And then the song! 




130 


HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


E’RE I DIE 


When I die, 

I would some hands could cross mine on my breast, 
O’er my poor, pulseless heart—cold and at rest, 
And say: “These hands did what they thought was 
best.” 

When I die. 

When I die, 

I would some quivering voice to me might say; 
“The faults were here, beloved, but now—to-day, 
We’ll bury them beneath a voiceless clay,” 

When I die. 

But e’er I die, 

I pray some loving words to me be said, 

Some benedictions placed upon my head, 

For living hearts are warmer than the dead, 

E’er I die. 




HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


131 


APPRECIATION 


Oh, isn’t it fine for this old world 
To give to you a Friend 
Who doesn’t wait for Eternity’s gate 
To clang—and mark “The End”— 

But sends a beautiful big bouquet 
Of posies sweet and rare— 

And one is Appreciation— 

And all are plucked with care. 

’Tis going to be a dark old place— 

Down in that “six by two,” 

With just the room for a wooden box, 

A metal plate, and you; 

And you can’t hear—and you can’t see— 
And you can’t smell, you know, 

Those perfumed flowers above your head 
That kind friends placed—and so— 

Just isn’t it fine to have a Friend 
To hand you a sweet bouquet— 

While you can see—and you can smell— 
Oh, isn’t it fine—I say? 




132 


HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


HEAVEN 


I cannot think that heaven will be 
A city on a jasper sea; 

For it would be so queer a sight 
That one might almost pray for night. 
The good Lord will, it seems to me, 

Just use His own vast, deep blue sea. 

I cannot think that heaven’s way 
Will be of gold as some do say; 

For little feet would find it cold 
And hard, to always walk on gold. 

In meadows green, I’m sure they’ll play, 
And pick His flowers all the day. 

I cannot think there’ll be no night 
In heaven—for a day so bright 
Should followed be by dusk—such rest 
E’en for immortals might be best. 

How wonderful, through heaven’s bars 
To gaze upon His lovely stars. 

I cannot think that we will rest 
Forever—as some do think best; 

For ’tis a burden to sit still 
When to be up one has a will. 

I think He’ll let both me and you 
Do that thing we most long to do. 




HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


FRIENDS 


1929 

To the Students of the Summer School 
Georgia State College for Women 
Milledgeville, Georgia 


You’re my Friend, and I’m your Friend; 

What would this old life be 
Without the touch of hand on hand? 

A lonesome, restless sea. 

I’m your Friend and you’re my Friend; 

How splendid are the days 
That bring us gladsome comradeship— 
E’re we go separate ways. 

Though soon, upon the Hill of Life, 
The trail you tread may bend 
And take you far away from me— 

But still—you are my Friend. 







134 


HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


MY MOTHER DEAR 


(A small boy, wearing a red flower on 
Mother’s Day, speaks) 

My Mother Dear, 

Somehow, I don’t get near so scared 
When you are near. 

When it grows dark 

And awful bugger-boos out there 

Waiting near the cedar tree 

To hop right out and grab at me— 

You take my hand, 

And smile at me—and understand. 

And oh, how brave it makes me feel! 

I ain’t so scared when you are near, 

My Mother Dear. 






HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


135 


(A Man, wearing a white flower 
on Mother’s Day, speaks) 

My Mother Dear, 

Somehow, life does not frighten me— 
I feel you near, 

Though from a place called Heaven 
You smile on me. 

And when my pathway grows so dark 
That groping, I can scarcely see, 

I sense the touch of your dear hand, 
And know, and feel you understand. 
And strong again, straight in the face 
I look my fear. 

To that fair place called Heaven 
Ascends my love to you. 

I pray 

That I may always feel you near, 

My Mother Dear. 



136 


HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


HOME AGAIN 

Written Nov. n, 1918 
(Sequel to “Young Fellow, My Lad.” 
By Robert Service) 


“Where have you been, Young Fellow, My Lad? 

Faith! and we’ve missed you sore !” 

“It’s over the seas, I’ve been,—My Dad— 

In the battle’s din and roar.” 

“What did you there, Young Fellow, My Lad? 

What did your young eyes see?” 

“Enough of sorrow and strife, my Dad— 

To make a man of me.” 

“Did you think of us, Young Fellow, My Lad— 
When the shells were glaring bright?” 

“Yes—well I knew you’d be praying—Dad— 

For your boy—in the night!” 

“They said you were dead. Young Fellow, My 
Lad- 

Say! did they wound you boy?” 

“Now—now—what does it matter, Dad? 

To be wounded for Right—is Joy!” 




HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


137 


“Come closer to me—Young Fellow, My Lad— 
I want to know you are real. 

Come to the arms of your poor old Dad 
He may know you are living still!” 

“Yes—sure I am—your Boy—your Lad— 

I’m glad I went to fight! 

Why—these are victory scars, my Dad— 

Won in the fight for right!” 

“Ah—me ! Ah me ! Young Fellow, My Lad! 

Your heart will never know 
How Mother and your poor old Dad 
Are proud that this is so!” 

“Then—here’s a hug for my dear Dad— 

A hug that is strong with joy! 

Here—Mother!—Here! I’m home again! 

Come greet your soldier boy!” 



138 


HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


TO MY LITTLE ROOM 
214-F Piedmont Hospital 


214—I hate to leave you—’clare to goodness if I 
don’t— 

Some day I’ll come back to see you—’clare to 
goodness if I won’t. 

With your window facing northward where a big 
magnolia tree 

Every day for ten long weeks did bloom a snowy 
bloom for me. 

With your little bed so “comfy” where I lay when 
after “gassed” 

Just so thankful that another operation day had 
passed. 

And your little bed-side table where the water 
pitcher sat— 

And the big waste paper basket where we caught 
a little rat. 

With your press-the-button service that quick 
brought a face that smiled— 

Cherry nurse that answered “lights” all day with 
out once getting “riled”— 

And the maid who was so polite as she brought a 
well filled tray— 

While attended by your silence I ate three square 
meals a day. 

Sun has shone and rain has pattered—we’ll con¬ 
fess a tear or two— 

When there was nobody looking—no one there to 
see but you. 




HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


139 


But your pillows were so soft-like—and so peace¬ 
ful was your calm, 

That the shadows of the evening stole away my 
every qualm. 

Three long months we have been pals now, will 
you miss me when I go ? 

Will you miss my voice in greeting to the friends I 
learned to know? 

214—I hate to leave you—’clare to goodness if I 
don’t— 

And I’m coming back to see you—’clare to good¬ 
ness if I won’t! 





140 


HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


IN THE STATION 


They come and go; 

Some rushing on with eagerness to grasp 
The hand of love so many years denied; 

While some pass on with step devoid of life 
As stalks the ghost of tragedy beside. 

The whistles blow; 

A group of chattering school girl’s lilting laughs 
Mix strangely with the stifled sobs of pain, 

As, black garbed and with dragging steps of grief, 
Some widow joins a casket on the train. 

They come and go; 

The red capped porter, grinning, lifts a case 
Its satin bow telling at once the tale, 

While rice and kisses quick, engulf the pair 
Who start their journey on the singing rail. 

The whistles blow; 

They sound of joy to some—to others bring 
A world of grief—and my eyes mist and dim, 
While watching joy and sorrow come and go, 

For my own blessings lifts my heart to Him. 




HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


141 


THE PARABLE OF THE TALENT 


The Master came one day 

And laid within His servant’s hand 

A talent small—and went His way. 

The talent grew, a healing force— 

A virtue flowing from the servant’s hand 
That made men whole. 

Untiring in his search for good to do, 

For years and years the talent of this servant 
Grew and grew. 

And lo! the time had come when He returned. 
“Where is my talent? and the interest?” 

For He was wroth that other servants had 
Their talents hid for fear of thieves— 

Or in a napkin wrapped 
Had buried in the ground. 

Behold! there comes a countless throng— 

With faces radiant and with joyous sound 
They pass along. 

“I walk again—see, Master, see! 

I leap—I run—oh, Master, look— 

For this is what he did for me!” 

The Master smiled—and still the throng passed 
by. 




142 


HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


Babes prest dost to mothers’ hearts, 

Young men and maidens at the spring 
Of life’s beginning. 

And older folk, with peaceful brow— 

And children—bits of heaven’s radiance shining 
From their faces! 

Mis-shapen forms made whole— 

Poor stumbling feet made straight and set 
Upon the path of life to go—to do—to be! 

“See Master, see!” 

And then the Master turned to speak— 

But lo! the servant whom He sought 
Had hid away. 

But the Master knew—and the Master smiled; 
“For inasmuch as ye did it unto the least of these, 
Ye have done it unto me—’’ 

And went His way. 



HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


143 


LIFE’S WORK 


One day I prayed (though God knew best) 
For Him to send that Day of Rest, 

I longed with a heart all burden-sore, 

To dwell with Him forevermore. 

Oh sense of freedom from earthly care— 

As my soul sprang out into God’s pure air! 
But, looking back to my body dead— 

I beheld a map before me spread. 

And there I saw, with eyes anew, 

The work each mortal had to do 

And suffer, e’er Heaven’s gates were won— 

And lo ! I saw mine was left undone ! 

I turned to the angel in dumb surprise, 

And read the sad look in'his sorrowing eyes; 
“Oh, Angel of Death, return I pray— 

Let me finish my work e’er I go my way!” 

A look of joy lit up his face, 

As back to my body’s resting place 
Our spirits flew; and I came back to life 
With heart anew for the worldly strife. 

Now I’m content to work and to pray, 

And live in my Master’s mapped-out way— 
For I know some day with the setting sun, 
He’ll call me home when my work is done. 




144 


HOME KEEPING HEARTS 


DEAR LITTLE ME 


Dear little me 
At the age of three, 

What were you thinking about? 

I fear it was not pleasant— 

Methinks I see a pout. 

Did they say, “Be still, dear, 

And smile a little bit?” 

While you longed to play 
The live long day— 

No wonder you wanted to quit! 

Dear little me 
At the age of three, 

What were you thinking about? 

With your two little curls so very prim 
And your fat little hand spread out. 

I’d like to draw you to me, 

As sturdily you sit— 

Poor little me 
At the age of three— 

And cuddle you a bit! 





“Dear Little Me at the Age of Three.” 









































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